


Wild Things

by ab2fsycho



Series: The Candle Cult [1]
Category: The Candle Cult
Genre: Deaths, For reasons, Forcefeeding, Grief, Implications, Loss, Lots of Abuse, Multi, Suggestiveness, abuse of every kind, but mostly implication because I couldn't write the actual, enslavement, fucking violence and brutality, just be wary, master/slave sort of dynamic, now you all know how crazy Tea's life has been, there are several implications of the aforementioned warning tags, will prob add more later laptops dying rn, you know the drill guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The back story of Rowan Alder Sverre, or Tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Things

**Author's Note:**

> Join the cult: http://thecandlecult.freeforums.net/

Eight years of age.

 

“No, don't go,” he whispered soothingly to the rodent as it skittered across his palms. His fingers followed its movements quickly, trying to catch it before it got away. Rowan smiled as the mouse ran from one hand to another, soon slowing as he persuaded it to calm down and be still with him for a time. “There,” he uttered happily as he ran the pad of his finger over the mouse's soft brown fur. “Not so bad, right?” He marveled at its fast breaths and heartbeats, felt the small traces of fear in it subside and give to an almost serene state. Rowan smiled as he studied its feelings, eyes darting from one point to another on the mouse's body as he learned its language.

 

He didn't look up as his mother approached quietly, the woman whispering, “You can't keep it, you know?”

 

He sighed. “Yeah, I know.” Then he repeated her mantra, “Wild things should stay wild.”

 

“That's right. Now let it go and come inside. Dad's almost done cooking.”

 

“But it's not even close to dark yet,” Rowan whined as he lowered his hand to the ground and watched the mouse scurry off. Glancing up at his mother, he gave the olive skinned woman his best pout.

 

She chuckled as she tried to smooth out his cowlick, her long black hair framing her face as she watched him with golden eyes. “Well, if you wanna wait till I'm out of the house to eat that's fine. But you still need to come inside.” He sighed, then stood. “And where’d you leave your shirt and shoes this time?”

 

He grinned up at her. “In a tree.” She shook her head at her son. Turning back to make sure the mouse made it back to the woods safely, he followed his mother inside. He liked having dinner with her before she left for the night. He also liked trying to convince his dad to let him stay up and wait for her to return in the morning. Dad had made a deal with him when he was little that if he could stay awake until midnight, he'd let Rowan work with him in the shop attached to the house. Rowan always wound up falling asleep, though, and usually while his father told him stories of dragons and monsters roaming freely across the earth. He’d wake up thinking he’d been in one of those stories and realize he’d missed his mother coming home from her nightly runs.

 

He watched as his mother pulled her gloves off and her kerchief from her mouth, revealing the talons and fangs that never receded even during the day. He tried not to ask again, as he'd asked numerous times already, if one day he would look like her. Would he have to leave with her at night when the changes come? The answer was always the same, though. Neither parent knew. They knew of no other like his mother, who had had a child with a man of a different race, so they didn't know what would happen to Rowan when he came of age. The one thing they were certain of was that he had his mother's gift of empathy, which he demonstrated often. Rowan liked to think it was a gift, at least. He thought of everything his mother could do as a gift, and so did his father. But no matter how much the two adored her, his mother insisted they be cognizant of who they spoke to about their family. They were. They always were.

 

Because no matter how amazing it was that his mother was both empath and skinwalker of lupine descent, Rowan believed her when she said there were people out there who bore ill will towards them.

 

*

 

Sixty-six years of age.

 

“You know the drill.”

 

Tea repeated without really thinking. “Gain trust and information, report back.”

 

“And what will we do with what you provide?”

 

“Infiltrate and occupy.”

 

“And how long will it take you to do this?”

 

“As long as it takes.”

 

He closed his eyes, hairs on the back of his neck bristling as Liam's painted hand patted the top of his head. “Good.” It still took everything in Tea's willpower to keep from recoiling at the touch, even his hair seeming to scream at the invasion of his space. “I expect you to find them quickly. Their numbers are increasing quite a lot of late.”

 

Tea nodded, then waited to be permitted to stand. Once allowed, he walked out with his gaze down and eyes unfocused. He vaguely heard Lance's chuckle before the whisper, “Good luck,” could brush his ears and grate on his resolve for the day.

 

*

 

Ten years of age.

 

“Run!”

 

“But it's night—”

 

“Forget everything we told you and run.”

 

Tears welled up in Rowan's eyes as he heard roars outside the likes of which he'd never known. Shaking his head, he braced his hands on the windowsill and stood his ground. “Mom said—”

 

“Your mother needs me, and she needs you to run. Now go!” His dad picked up a claw hammer in one hand and a hatchet in the other. If not for the fact that he was a war veteran, Rowan might have believed he was running straight to his death.

 

Rowan wanted to follow his father, had always felt safe alongside his father, and was terrified to obey him by breaking the one rule they had always followed. He'd never been outside at night. He didn't know how to function outside at night. He searched through the energies of the people at their door, the people his mother was snarling at and . . . they weren't people. They felt like . . . beasts. He was scared, shaking and crying as he slid out the window and ran headlong into the dark wood. The roars grew softer, but he still heard them in his head as he ran and the heat of flames licking up the sides of his home as he departed.

 

This was not how he'd envisioned his first time leaving the house at night.

 

*

 

He hadn't found them. She'd found him.

 

He was already regretting this mission, and she didn't even know he was a Puppeteer. Slammed into a nearby tree by arms of smoke, a more than a little disturbing voice shouted, “Why are you here, human?”

 

He grit his teeth, face half hidden by his collar as he growled, “I'm not.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

How honest should he be with the creature? He went with as honest as possible. She could easily tear him apart. He felt this in her energy, Tea's mind and body already buzzing at the invasion of her aura. He was about to start shaking when he uttered, “A way into the cult.”

 

The candle headed creature's temperament actually grew fouler. “You're not going to last long in the cult if you can't break out of this hold, human.”

 

Tea's brow furrowed. “I told you I'm not.” Usually he had to fight to make people believe he was.

 

“You sure as hell look human to me!”

 

In one fluid movement, he jerked his hands down at such an angle that the heavy gloves on them shot off to reveal clawed fingers. Raising his chin, he bore his teeth and snarled as he felt his eyes grow hot from their golden glow. Lunging forward through the dissipating tendrils of her smoke limbs, his hands rose to grasp at the handle of a warhammer that came into being at his command. Swinging it, he hit her in the side and she let out a startled gasp. “I'm not!” he said more firmly, voice gravelly as she stood back up slowly and coughed. This was already not going well for a first meeting.

 

Until she turned a maniacal grin on him and declared, “I might like you after all.” Smoke lunged for him again and he dodged, rolling back onto his feet and swinging his hammer again with ease. He missed, as she'd quickly ducked and sent another round of limbs at him again. “What's a giant skinwalker like yourself doing out at night and not in his full form?” He swung again, missing once more before taking a hit to the chest. He stumbled back, barely hearing her almost inaudible sigh of disappointment. “Unless you're only half. That's a shame.”

 

Half was still enough to get him branded a monster. Anger oozed out of him as he sent waves of terror into her, making her flinch slightly before he growled, “That's not all.” A third eye blinked open on his forehead before blinking closed again.

 

Oh dear God, her grin widened. It was as if she knew the other form he was hiding had to be massive in size and power just from looking at the small example of the transformation. “Oh,” she whispered and suddenly his vision went black and smoke surrounded him. He swung again, only to have the weapon yanked from his hands. He lashed out mentally, allowing a rage he didn't truly feel to permeate the smoke. He was met with a chuckle and a bad taste in his mouth from the surrounding magic. Between the time he'd gathered himself back together and the time he lost sight of everything, what felt like a hand plunged into his chest and a scream lodged in his throat. Everything inside him burned, and he felt tears in his metaphysical being that weren't there before. It felt like every sinew, every vein, was being pulled out of him as the cult leader (she had to be their leader) tore into him and whispered, “You'll do.”

 

His last thought before she grasped something within him and yanked it out wasn't a plea for life, oddly. Rather, it was almost a sigh of relief. He almost hoped this was the end and the Puppeteers had met their match.

 

Then he awoke with a start, and a lightness filled his body that . . . wow . . . he had never felt so . . . he couldn't describe it.

 

He blinked several times, sweat gathering at his temples as he sucked in a breath out of instinct more than need. He . . . he didn't need breath? That . . . that wasn't right. “What—?”

 

“Goodbye soul, hello new member.” He stared up at her, head spinning slightly. His soul? She . . . she'd taken his _soul_? “Welcome to the Candle Cult.”

 

*

 

He'd been curled up in the underbrush when a hand grasped his forearm. He came awake with a yelp, kicking away and hoping it wasn't a monster come to devour him too. Rowan blinked several times as the hand drew back, and it almost left an imprint on his skin. He felt the heat of the painted palm long after he was released.

 

Rowan stared up at the man, whose eyes seemed . . . wrong. They just seemed wrong, somehow. They didn't focus on him, but at the same time they stared right through him. That wasn't the only thing that seemed unsettling about this man: he gave off no energy. Rowan couldn't read him at all. It was almost like . . . he had no feelings at all. Rowan knew that couldn't be true. Everything had feelings, and yet this man gave off nothing. A voice in the back of his head told him to be scared, but the silence was almost . . . he'd never relaxed so much with someone so quickly before. It was almost like falling after spinning in circles, the way the emptiness within the man felt to Rowan.

 

Remembering how he'd come to be hiding in the underbrush, Rowan returned to being horrified beyond movement. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Where's my dad?” Soon followed the question, “Where's—?”

 

The stranger gave him a pitiful look as Rowan was cut off, “We fought to save them, but it was too late.” His voice was almost as hypnotic as the emptiness within him, but it wasn't calming enough to stop the tears that spilled down Rowan's face. Choked sobs escaped his closing throat as he covered his eyes with both hands. In just one sentence, just one night . . . Rowan had lost everything he had ever known and loved. The man shushed him and patted his shoulder as Rowan's whole body shook. “But you live. You can avenge them.” Rowan looked up, eyes red and watering. He didn't know how to respond at first. He just stared at those eyes and waited until the man whispered, “Let me help you.”

 

Rowan had nowhere else to go. He knew of no other family. He was fortunate, he thought, to have been found by this man and not the monsters that had killed his family. He choked up again, squeezing his eyes shut and nodding.

 

As he let himself be pulled up and maneuvered, Rowan didn't see the smirk that passed over the man's lips. The man he would come to know as Liam.

 

*

 

The door opened and Tea was greeted with a loud bang and a bullet ripping through his thigh. He cursed and doubled over, dropping to his knees immediately as if on command. His heart raced and he barely missed the words the shooter breathed out. “Damn. You're taller than I expected.”

 

“What were you aiming for?” a higher voice asked as the leader's aura flared beside Tea.

 

“Grey how many fucking times have I told you to _cut that shit out!?_ ”

 

Tea looked up at the creatures that had greeted him, both hooded and one with a set of antlers on her head. The antlered individual approached him timidly, hands outstretched as she whispered, “That looks bad. I can heal—”

 

“No, no,” he waved her off, taking in several deep breaths as he slowly applied pressure to the gunshot wound. His head was fuzzy, but he could still handle this on his own. He needed to handle this on his own. “I'm good.” I'm used to it, was what he almost said. That would raise questions he couldn't answer honestly, however.

 

“Quit covering the shot and let Ash heal you,” the leader commanded. “Tea, meet Ash. Ash, Tea. Asshole who shot you? That's Grey. Feel free to shoot him back anytime you like.”

 

As the antlered girl neared him, he had to fight to recoil from her nearing palms. He heard her mutter, “Don't tell Mom you said that.”

 

“What was that?” the leader asked. Ash just shook her head as Tea reluctantly pulled his hands away from the injury. He watched as Ash inhaled deeply and covered the bleeding portion of his leg with both hands. There was a brief tingling sensation, then a warmth spread over his skin. When she pulled her hands away, there was nothing there. No evidence of a wound showed save for the blood that had seeped into his trousers.

 

“There!” Ash declared cheerily as Tea stared for an extended period of time.

 

After a moment of realizing the pain wasn't going to come back to bite him, Tea whispered, “Thanks.”

 

“Now then,” the leader declared. “That's fixed. Mind getting up? You're a bit too big for any of us to carry.” Tea shuddered and obeyed without question. She made a noise of annoyance at him as the smallest movement of her cloak made him flinch. “Relax, dumbass. I've already got your soul. Let's get you settled in.”

 

*

 

“This is Rowan.” Liam didn't reprimand him for hiding at his side upon introduction. The faces staring back at him seemed just as blank as their surrounding auras. “He's our newest Toy.”

 

“A little young for our tastes, don't you think?” one leered.

 

Liam brushed off the question without so much as blinking. “He has potential.” A hand squeezed Rowan's shoulder and for the first time he felt like he wasn't okay at Liam's side. “And a grudge.”

 

The one who had asked the question smirked, and Rowan shrank at how utterly vacuous the expression seemed without the feeling to back it.

 

After a few days of getting used to the new scenery and terminology, Rowan breathed easier when he was around the others. Like Liam, they gave off no energy. They were vacant, but their stares spoke volumes. They commanded animals and monsters in ways Rowan had never thought could be done, and the creatures seemed totally enamored of their Masters. It was . . . odd. Even Rowan felt like the creatures were almost living in a drugged state of being. But the Masters were going to help him learn. They were going to teach him how to fight and find the things that killed his parents.

 

He was neither strong nor swift at first, which left the others rather unimpressed by him. The one thing that kept him within the good graces of the Puppeteers (he came to know that was their name) was how quickly beasts took to him. Part of the job of being a Toy, his current rank, was caring for the beasts that the Masters either owned or brought in. He had grown accustomed to coming in contact with monsters, treating them as fairly as he would any other animal. He'd questioned his role in their capture at first, repeating to himself the mantra his mother used to. But soon he tuned out the mantra. It was too painful a reminder, and the bond the Masters and older Toys seemed to share with their beasts ranged from impressive to admirable. Rowan wasn't about to lie and say he didn't want a connection like that. The connection between Master and creature seemed to be the only connection held sacred by the Puppeteers sometimes, though from the pledge they recited at every gathering denoted the clear hierarchy of humans over beasts.

 

Much to the dismay of the elders, most of the beasts took an automatic liking to Rowan. “It's okay,” he would whisper to new arrivals, who cowered and crawled back and away. He held out his hand to those who were more frightened than aggressive. It was easy to tell which ones were which. The beasts were the ones he could read the easiest, and by the time he was done calming them they usually approached the other Puppeteers without hesitation.

 

He was just coaxing a fox to his side when a voice from above observed, “So you just talk to them.” Rowan looked up slowly, keeping still so as not to frighten the nearly trusting animal away from him. There stood one of the older Masters, one Liam had introduced as the Grand Editor Lance. Though he couldn't discern anything about the man, something about him struck Rowan as malicious. Rowan quickly brushed aside the thought. That was no way to think of someone kind enough to take him in and help train him. Nodding, Rowan felt about as small as the fox as Lance's smile widened. “Do people take to you as quickly as monsters do?” The Master didn't wait for Rowan to answer, which Rowan was grateful for as he didn't really know. “We shall see.” Rowan didn't understand the last statement Lance made as the Master was walking away and so did not question it. That statement was, “You look good on your knees.”

 

*

 

Tea was overwhelmed to say the least. There were so many. There were too many. The individuals here were powerful and overbearing, their energies terrifyingly consuming of his reserves. No number of shields he had put in place in the past could have prepared him for power of this magnitude.

 

But at the same time, everything seemed duller than before. There was a missing portion of what normally came with being surrounded by those who actually felt and gave off auras. The pressure of others' feelings didn't strike him as sharply. It was still on, it was still there, but not nearly as . . . painful. He attributed this to the loss of his soul. Oddly, he didn't miss it. It looked lovely, burning on the head of his hammer. He assumed that was what that was. He assumed that the addition of the flames were significant in some way.

 

He also noted his new found ability to regenerate. Coming back from a particularly nasty encounter with his beast the day before (which he kept hidden from all in a private bunker he'd found long ago), he had a deep cut in his forearm. When he went to check on it again, he discovered it had healed over completely. He tested the ability, gritting his teeth through the pain as he marked himself with claws, knives, fights with his puppet. It wasn't until Ash had mentioned loving the taste of organs that he really sought to test his limits. Tea should have been more concerned about the strange habits and rituals of the creatures he was supposed to be observing. Instead, he was cutting himself open daily just to see what he could take out and survive. The first cut had been excruciating, and he remembered vaguely from the history he'd been allowed to learn that the perfect word to describe what he was doing to himself was seppuku. There was no honor in what he was committing, however, as he now knew he wasn't going to perish. It was also entirely based on a sick curiosity and time enough spent alone wondering how much he could take. He'd never known anyone with the ability to breathe without lungs, had never conceived the possibility until he was holding the organs themselves out and away from his body.

 

He should have been disgusted. Instead, he was fascinated. His pain tolerance had grown considerably since the epic discovery of regenerative healing.

 

It was while he was lying on the couch waiting for a new pair of lungs to grow back (a process so painful it was easier just putting the organs back in place or finding new ones to attach within) that he first met the dragon child. He lay in pain, Tapi grumbling from the other side of the living room about how much of a mess he had made while experimenting with his limits. As far as he'd seen, he had no limits. He could handle whatever pain he was willing to put up with, and honestly . . . that scared him more than anything else.

 

He'd opened his eyes at the sound of clawed feet rapidly hitting the floor as something approached from behind the couch. Tea's eyes shot wide as a cloaked creature he'd never seen before popped over the back of the furniture and dropped onto his chest before squealing and clutching at his neck. He went completely stiff and sat bolt upright as the being continued clinging to him, letting out an unintentional cry of panic as it seemingly shouted, “New person!” His heart hammered in his chest and he held his hands up with uncertainty. Why wasn't it letting go of him? What was it doing? Was it trying to choke him? Was it going to bite his throat? Oh God, don't let it pull down his collar—?

 

“She's hugging you, you dolt. Hug her back.” He glanced to Tapi quickly, chest still aching and heart still pounding as he turned his gaze back to the . . . thing holding him. This . . . this was a hug? He awkwardly placed a hand on her back and felt, of all things, wings through her cloak. She was a dragon? A dragon was . . . not strangling him? Dazed and a little more than confused, he caught his breath more out of habit than necessity as he tried to relax and hold back with the one arm.

 

When the dragon child let go and dropped unceremoniously onto his lap, she gazed up and asked, “Is your name really Tea?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Do you like tea? Can you make some?”

 

He wondered briefly why he would be named Tea if he didn't like the beverage. Blinking, he answered, “Yeah, I guess.” He glanced to Tapi again, waiting for a command, objection, anything really.

 

All the leader provided was, “Stuff's in the kitchen. Good luck.”

 

With that, the dragon bounced on his leg with an excited yip. Climbing up his chest and over his shoulder, he had to fight not to go rigid as she positioned herself on his back. Paws clutching his shoulders as her feet dug into his jacket to hold on, she declared excitedly, “Let's go!”

 

He didn't argue. Later he'd learn there was very little he could convince the dragon _not_ to do when she put her mind to it. He just went with her latest whim.

 

*

 

Eleven years of age.

 

“He's lying.”

 

Liam lifted an eyebrow and turned his head towards the Toy. “You can tell?”

 

“You . . . you can't?” Rowan shrank slightly. How could they not tell? Oh. He blanched at the reminder that he was . . . not like them, to say the least. Gazing down, he crossed his arms over his chest and clamped his mouth shut. He shouldn't have distracted the Masters while they were questioning an enemy.

 

“No no,” Liam paused as the enemy glowered from his position on the ground. Rowan was struggling not to feel the number of bruises the man already had as Liam and Lance stood on either side of the boy. “Tell us how you know he's lying.”

 

Rowan closed his eyes to keep from looking at the man's fearful expression. Doing this didn't help lower the intensity of the man's feelings, but it did help him block out the way the other looked in his mind's eye. Drawing in a deep breath to calm his nerves, he explained, “He doesn't make eye contact. He stares at the ground like he's reading from a script.”

 

“By that same judgment, we could say you're lying,” Lance pointed out.

 

Rowan stiffened. “But I'm not—”

 

“How else can you tell?” Liam interrupted.

 

Rowan wanted to leave. He wanted to leave now, but he couldn't. They had wanted him to see this sort of interrogation process firsthand. Gritting his teeth at first, he then declared, “He . . . he starts his sentences with words that don't commit.”

 

“Is that all?” Lance asked. Rowan's throat clenched at the almost knowing tone.

 

“Be honest, boy. You can imagine what we do to liars.”

 

Liam's words stung, goading Rowan into choking out, “I just know.”

 

Opening his eyes slightly, he could just see out of their corners Lance looking to Liam with some . . . interest. He thought that was what interest looked like. Looking toward the man on the ground, Rowan felt an ounce of pity for him at the defeated look he was giving the boy. Then Liam uttered, “Take him elsewhere.” Lance's hand clasped Rowan's shoulder. The touch was meant to be one of approval, but Rowan honestly felt like the Master's palm burned him. “He can wait to see the more intricate methods of getting information.”

 

Lance led him from the room, hand still gripping his shoulder. “You are more useful than I anticipated,” the Master murmured as they left Liam with the enemy.

 

There was a strangled cry originating from behind them that Rowan didn't turn to investigate. He was too busy trying to determine whether it was the knowledge that he'd sealed the captured man's fate with the slip of the tongue or the hand grasping his shoulder making his guts churn.

 

*

 

Sixty-seven years of age.

 

The first time Tea ripped out his heart, his eyes went wide. He . . . he couldn't feel anything. At all. He was completely and utterly empty. There was the pain of the absence yes, but no emotion. It was . . . he started laughing. He started laughing and he couldn't stop. He sat there cackling, his heart in his hand and his third eye starting to open. Face splitting from the grin, he couldn't stop himself. He just laughed.

 

Because for the first time in the fifty odd years he was supposed to be heartless, he actually was and it was the most validating feeling he'd ever had. For once, he wasn't being ruled by his power. For once, he felt something akin to control.

 

“What’s gotten into you, you stupid tree?” Gemmy asked from his cell in the bunker.

 

Tea turned to him with the split grin. “Is this what it feels like?” His puppet’s three, black eyes narrowed on him. “To be one of them?”

 

Gemmy hunched over and paced behind his bars, dragging his steadily wearing chains behind him as he moved on two sets of clawed hands and feet despite his ability to walk upright. He preferred to crawl and always had, the movement looking more and more like a mixture of a cat and some sort of primate. “You never were one of them. Too damn fragile to bite the hand that struck you.” He scoffed in a disgusting manner. Poor excuse for a monster.”

 

The thought made an idea bloom in his head and his expression as he stood slowly made the Phobia tilt his head in curiosity. “You’re right, though.” He moved over to one of the few pieces of furniture in the bunker, setting the lump of organ down and picking up a dull knife its stead. “I’m a monster. Perhaps I should act like one while they’re not looking.” Instead of looking scared, as he sometimes wished he would, Gemmy grinned at the challenge of a fight.

 

It was then he learned of the appetite the heartlessness tended to awaken in him, and suddenly his puppet had a use outside of just sitting in the bunker and having physical traits absorbed by his Master. The Phobia cackled at this new development, which left Tea feeling terrible despite his annoyance with the creature. Putting the heart back in place after feeding on the flesh of his beast was never pleasant, as the emotions he’d failed to feel in its absence came crashing back to him in one go and the taste of blood had never been satisfying to him. Food in general didn't satisfy him. Now that he didn't need to eat to live, he'd taken to just consuming tea whenever the hollowness of hunger arose. Unless he had his heart out, that is. Then he craved something bloodier, more substantial.

 

While he enjoyed the voluntary silence that came with the lack of a heart, the voracious appetite and propensity for violence was enough to make him cautious when he removed the vital organ.

 

*

 

Fifteen years of age.

 

There had been an influx of new Toys after a good chunk of the Masters rebelled against Liam. Rowan had managed to stay hidden and watched through it all at Liam's command. He stayed with the beasts that had no Masters or Toys, and they watched over him like he was one of their own. There had been so many deaths, screams, injuries, that Rowan was more than grateful for the conundrum that was his inability to read the Masters' feelings and emotions. It was then that he became even more serious about improving his weapons skills as opposed to simply staying an animal and creature caretaker. Some of the beasts even sought to help him in this endeavor, as they’d recalled his terror during the battle. The experience had been devastating enough to remind him of how he'd come to be among the Puppeteers in the first place. He never wanted to feel that level of helplessness again.

 

Ranged attacks were difficult to deal with, but as soon as he picked up a weapon meant to deal blunt force trauma the other Toys discovered he was stronger than he seemed. As one with a slender build, they hadn't expected him to be able to swing and wield the weapon with such ease.

 

He had just knocked down one of the newer Toys while sparring when he paused just before the hammer connected with his chest. Pulling the weapon back, the grounded teen was staring up at him with eyes wide when Rowan held out his hand. “What,” the dark haired young man began, “the hell got into you this morning?”

 

“What do you mean?” Rowan asked as the other took his hand and he pulled him up off the ground.

 

“Suddenly you're a badass. What happened?”

 

Rowan shrugged. “I don't know. I just had some tea and—”

 

“Leaf water did this? Jesus Christ.”

 

Rowan snorted at the Toy. “Maybe I should overload on caffeine more often.”

 

“Maybe. Then I'd really have to step up my game.”

 

He shook his head. “Nah. Your game is good.”

 

The other rolled his eyes. “You idiot. I was only awesome until you learned how to fight in, like, one morning. Shove some more tea down that throat of yours and you might get your puppet early, kid.”

 

Rowan liked that idea as they set up their weapons and moved away from the training area to take a break. At some point a cracker or piece of jerky was offered to him and he shook his head without really taking in the food that was being offered. “Nah. I'm good.”

 

“When I said drink more tea, I didn't mean consume _only_ tea.”

 

“Sorry, just not hungry.” He hadn't been for a few days now. He wasn't sure if it was because his jaw hurt more than was normal or if it was because he simply didn't have an appetite.

 

The teen bit into the food that had been offered Rowan, then noticed Rowan rubbing at his jaw and said through his mouthful, “You okay, Tea?”

 

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we're calling me now?”

 

“Well if the shoe fits—”

 

“Fuck off, Aiden.”

 

The other snorted, almost choking on his food. “I will wash your mouth with soap, you little bastard.”

 

Rowan laughed.

 

*

 

“I don't believe,” Problem uttered as Tea brewed them a pot, “I've ever seen you eat.”

 

Tea shrugged. “I don't need to.”

 

Problem's eyes narrowed on him. “You would probably have much more energy if you actually ate a few meals. I should have Grey fix you something sometime—”

 

“No, I'm,” he cut her off nervously, avoiding the topic, “I'm okay. I don't need it.”

 

Problem's expression intensified. “Just how old are you?”

 

Tea wasn't sure how to answer that. Should he lie? How old was she?  "Sixty-seven." Just turned, actually.

 

Problem scoffed, then got up and moved towards the refrigerator. "You're a damn baby."

 

Tea squinted. "Excuse me?"

 

"My children are older than you, and that's sad. Have you met them?"

 

He had, but what did that have to do with anything? "Yeah," he answered anyway.

 

"Imagine how difficult it is to care for them." She pulled an already made sandwich out of the fridge with a tentacle and held it out to him. "Eat the sandwich."

 

He shook his head. "Really, I'm fine—"

 

"This isn't an option. Eat it or be fed it." Tea stalled for too long and she wound up advancing on him with raised tentacles. He wasn't sure he'd ever endured such an aggressive assault as Problem trying to force feed him.

 

In the back of his mind, he knew that was a lie.

 

*

 

Why did everything have to happen at two in the morning? Tea wondered this desperately as the pain in his jaw reached its peak and he wound up running to the bathroom while all the others slept. Staring blankly into one of the mirrors, his eyes were watering from the pain by the time he opened his mouth to see just what was happening. His gums were so sore. His teeth hurt so bad. Everything looked normal until . . . until . . . .

 

His eyes. Oh God his eyes. They were . . . they were glowing.

 

A sharp pain shot from his jaw, down his neck, and down his arms and he dropped to his knees howling. His fingertips burned and every tooth ached as the bathroom door, which he'd left partially open, slammed against the wall. He covered his whole head as a familiar voice shouted, "Tea?"

 

"Get out!" he screamed through the pain, voice sounding less like his own and more like a growl as Aiden turned tail and ran for the Masters' quarters. He cowered on the floor, curling in on himself as the pain persisted. Oh no. Oh God no, he knew what was happening. He knew, and what was once supposed to be a moment to celebrate became an event of pure terror burning in his mind. Here, in a place where humans ruled beasts, he was becoming . . . he was turning into . . . .

 

When he heard more footsteps coming down the hall, he curled in further. By now there was blood on his tongue and there was a reflection of his golden eyes shining up from the tiles. He didn't bother running his tongue over his teeth. The blood from his gums told him they were now fangs. He didn't bother looking at his nails. He knew from the burning they had become talons. That night he had become what he had always been, only now he looked the part: half skinwalker.

 

The individuals approaching stopped just feet from him. He didn't dare look up. He felt nothing off the Master, but Aiden was there and he was mortified by what had become of the fellow Toy. "Well, this is quite the turn of events," Lance's voice reached his ears just before a hand surged forth and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Panic flooded him as the Master yanked him up, eyeing him up and down with a look of pure fascination and malice. Rowan whimpered as fingers forced his mouth open to view his newly formed fangs, Lance uttering whimsically, "It seems we've acquired a new monster." Rowan shook his head frantically only for Lance to grip the back of his neck harder. The grin given to him was enough to make him go still and start shaking. "I'd say finders keepers, but I suppose that means Liam must decide your fate. Come come."

 

Rowan was forced up onto his feet, eyes darting over to Aiden as he almost reached out to the other for help. The Toy’s eyes were round as saucers and his mouth agape in what Rowan recognized as a form of fear. Aiden turned away from Rowan’s hand and refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge him as . . . as an equal. Rowan was no longer an equal. He was a monster to them. To his friend. Rowan could have cried at how Aiden flinched away from him. How quickly the tables had turned on him.

 

He should have known better as soon as he learned of the Puppeteers' mentality towards anything other than human. Now he suddenly realized what it meant to be penned and caged like the creatures he'd excelled at caring for and domesticating.

 

*

 

He knew in his head it hadn't been directed at him originally, but as soon as Ash's hand flew back and struck the back of his head he froze. Eyes wide and breath stuttering, he gripped the counter top until his knuckles lost color and just stilled. His mind blanked as he anticipated either a command or another strike.

 

Ash, who had been pulling apart something bloody (probably an organ she intended to eat in pieces), gasped and turned to him. "Sweet Tea!" He wanted to smile at the nickname, but couldn't. Move. He just. Couldn't. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—," she stopped herself, coming to stand at his side and staring up into his frozen face. "Oh no," she murmured, moving her hand in front of his gaze. Even that couldn't make him snap out of it. He was so stiff and he felt so sick, all he wanted to do was drop to the ground but he couldn't even breathe now as it was. "Oh no, I broke you. I broke Sweet Tea." He wanted to tell her no, she hadn't. She really hadn't. But someone else had. "Oh dear, what do I do?"

 

It was when her fingers threaded through the hair on the back of his head that his own palm shot up and grasped hers, nearly crushing her hand with the hard grip. Pulling her hand away, he sucked in a lungful of air and breathed out, "It's fine." He was such a liar he knew she could tell. "I'm fine," he added, trying to reassure himself more than Ash now. Still, his head was sore and spinning and the strike had shattered a good chunk of his recently fragile resolve.

 

The tea pot whistled, and with shaking hands he pulled the teabag from the cup it had been resting in and stuck it between his teeth. Ash flinched and gasped as he popped the nozzle of the kettle and poured the boiling water directly into his mouth. The boiling water hurt as it went down his throat and burned him from the inside out. Innards raw from the abuse, he felt drowsy as steam poured out of his open, tea stained mouth and he set the pot down. There. He'd be fine then. The ground rose up to meet him and Ash yelped as he went down. He'd be fine now.

 

Because the pain of his guts being boiled suited him much more than being struck over the head and reminded of his place.

 

*

 

They strapped him to a chair, arms trapped by belts as Liam ordered another Master to clip his talons. They had forced a guard into his mouth to keep him from biting into his own gums, but his fangs even penetrated the guard he bit down so hard. Every trim quicked him, drawing a scream from his sore throat as he watched blood drip from his nails. Tears streamed down his face as Liam and Lance conferred right in front of him like he wasn't even there. Like he was no longer a person.

 

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?"

 

"I suspected it, but couldn't be too sure."

 

"Will he make a full transformation?"

 

"I sincerely doubt it. He's only half after all."

 

"Still . . . it would be a pity to lose such an asset."

 

Liam stepped closer, waving away the third Master before inspecting Rowan's nails. He ran his fingertips over the sore nubs, Rowan trying desperately not to flinch at the sensation. "I never planned on losing him."

 

Rowan watched through teary eyes as Lance's lips pursed. "Do you mean to—?"

 

"Yes." Liam gave a signal Rowan didn't recognize to the third Master, who left to stand out of sight and by a fireplace. He vaguely recalled hearing the movement of something metal against burning coals as Liam turned toward Rowan for the first time and uttered, "Do you trust me, boy?"

 

Rowan felt ill. He had trusted them for so long, but this seemed so . . . different. He didn't know what to do, how to react. As if sensing his uncertainty, Lance came forward and gripped his still aching jaw. "You are being asked a ques—"

 

"Let him go." Lance looked back at Liam, Rowan whimpering in the Master's hold as his eyes squeezed shut, opened slightly, then fixed on the almost possessive stare the Puppet Master gave his closest consort. "He is mine."

 

"Liam—"

 

"Oh, I know you want him. But did you honestly think I'd let you have him?" Rowan shrank back as Lance's nails dragged across his skin before letting go. Lance's infuriated gaze held his until Liam asked again, "Do you trust me?"

 

A voice in his head told him no. Still, he nodded and whispered through the guard, "I do." Because it was safer to trust Liam than Lance at this point.

 

Liam smiled. "Very good." He gestured towards the other Master, whose steps Rowan could hear but he didn't turn his head to look. "Then you'll know I'm claiming you for your own good."

 

Rowan's eyes widened as the third Master handed Liam an iron rod with a heated brand on the end. He shook his head, screaming against the guard. He'd seen this done on the beasts, had felt their pain. Some Masters used seals and were more merciful on their monsters, but most were cruel. They were never quick with the necessary recitations, their words only dragging on until the brand was practically embedded in the creature’s skin.

 

Lance moved to stand behind Rowan's seat, hand curling in Rowan's hair to hold his head still as the hot brand neared his neck. "This will only sting a little," Lance rasped.

 

Then the metal hit the left side of Rowan's neck and he let out an awful scream. Meanwhile, Liam recited the binding words he'd heard many times. The Master's eyes flared green and Rowan's eyes sealed shut against the burning agony that was being made into someone's puppet.

 

It felt like hours before Liam was done, and by then the Master had to rip the brand from Rowan's marred flesh. Lance released his head and Rowan slumped in his seat, the pain from the trimming and the claiming tearing through him at an agonizing rate. Liam uttered, "Your talons will no doubt grow back. You will be gloved to keep them out of sight." A faux affectionate caress of Liam's hand down his cheek brought a whine from Rowan before the Master said, "Being my puppet will not be so bad. You will still get the chance to avenge your parents and change your rank in the Puppeteers. You will just have to bend to my will." He made it sound like it was no big deal when really this changed everything for Rowan. Rowan felt completely insignificant before them now. He was strapped down, sweating and panting while they stood above him. While they owned him. "Don't be upset, boy. This was the only way to keep you . . . mostly human." He didn't understand. He understood nothing. Things had changed so drastically and so swiftly. "You understand that, right?"

 

No, he didn't. Still, he felt himself nodding even as he wanted to shake his head.

 

Liam drew back, nodding in the direction of the other two Masters before departing. The third Master unbuckled the belts pinning his arms as Lance ordered, "Bandage him up and keep a guard in his mouth. I'll return with a coat and some gloves." As Lance stepped into view, Rowan ducked his head under the look the Master gave him. Completely ignoring his sore neck, he couldn't fathom trying to understand the Master's expression at the moment. The words, "I really wanted you, too," left enough to the imagination.

 

*

 

"See you're still alive."

 

Tea didn't turn, a sort of tunnel vision keeping him focused forward even as Aiden spoke from a hiding place behind him. This was one of the few times he had gotten summoned away from the cult, and of all places near the beast fighting pits. His nose crinkled in disgust no matter how many times he had been here in the past. "Not for lack of everyone trying."

 

Aiden scoffed. "What's the matter? They rough you up a bit too hard? With the lack of update, we would have thought you died."

 

He had. But then he'd been reborn and remade into something new. In someone else's mind, that could have sounded like a religious experience. For Tea, it was the start of a whole new complication. "As if Liam would just let me die so simply."

 

"He felt you go blank for a time. Now things are . . . a little different." Tea didn't respond, and he knew that ticked Aiden off. "You gonna enlighten me, or should I go get Lance?"

 

Tea cringed out of habit. "No."

 

"Then speak up, kid. Unlike you, I haven't got all day."

 

Tea shook his head and sighed, mind wandering back to the pit. He’d fought once. Rather, Gemmy had fought once. Tea wasn’t allowed to fight. It might risk his cover, and his beast was simply too volatile to be kept near anything other than him. He supposed that was only fair, as Gemmy had been yanked from a world where his violence served a purpose and into one where he was controlled by something so much weaker. Tea supposed they were a good match after all with that reasoning. "To get in, the leader collects your soul. She and some others have the power to extinguish the flames given in place of souls."

 

"Flames?" Tea summoned his hammer and showed Aiden the burning end as further evidence of his membership. He could practically feel Aiden's eyes narrow. "So the leader can snuff you out anytime that thing's around?" Tea nodded. “Can you die?”

 

Tea shook his head. “I can’t. The others . . .,” he wasn’t sure. Actually, he was. But . . . something kept him from voicing his thoughts. "They are still vulnerable to death.” He quickly changed the subject. “There are several powerful beings among them. You . . . I can feel their energy. But I haven't seen anyone in serious action." Save for a few. Somehow he didn't feel right mentioning them. He'd need to eventually but just . . . not now. "Everyone has their secrets. No one has quite as much devotion to the cult itself as one probably should. They all have their own bad intentions." Bad meaning someone was always going to suffer from the silent plots. But wasn't that just the way?

 

Aiden let out a low whistle. "Hope you got a plan to get your soul back."

 

Actually, he didn't. He was counting on Tapi keeping his soul. Maybe then when the Puppeteers came to collect and annihilate, Tea would be the collateral.

 

He'd never felt so close to freedom before. It was exhilarating and damning all at once, because whoever came out on top owning him was not going to let him live. Now that he knew what it felt like to live without breath, he could honestly say he was not as afraid of death anymore. Living was what scared him.

 

*

 

Gloves and a coat with a high collar hid his claws, brand, and teeth, but the attitude towards him had changed radically. He spent almost all of his energy avoiding the other Toys, Masters keeping a wary eye on him at all times. He was relieved of his duties as caretaker of beasts and animals when the creatures stopped seeing him as an authority figure and began thinking of him as one of their own. He was a monster, not caged but certainly leashed. The Masters claimed it was for his own betterment to keep him among ‘people’ instead of beasts, but he somehow knew despite their lack of aura what they really feared.

 

But it hurt more that the one thing he'd excelled at was now the one thing he couldn't do anymore.

 

However, Liam found a new use for him: planting him among groups of enemies and using his abilities to figure out who could be useful and who could be disposed of. He had successfully undone an entire tribe of supernatural beings before he turned sixteen. The one comfort he took was that Liam was forgiving enough to pull him from the fray before the Puppeteers completely devoured the tribe. His reasoning? The Master didn't want his puppet's soft heart hardened just yet.

 

The yet portion of the sentence didn't alarm him as much as the news that in order to gain control of a beast himself, he'd need to sacrifice his heart. Rowan was on the verge of begging (not to keep his heart, but to have it taken) when Liam told him, "You will still be able to pay the necessary price. Just not with your heart." His heart was too valuable, according to Liam. The Master had no use for it outside of the puppet's body.

 

It was befuddling to Rowan, knowing what a beast endured and yet still wanting to rise in rank. Perhaps it was because it really hadn't been that difficult transitioning from Toy to puppet. The hardest part had been the branding. While he was now greatly shunned by the other Puppeteers, no one harmed him. No one dared.

 

But he always felt a sense of foreboding whenever he turned a corner. There was no power in being owned. If anything, he was afraid. He was afraid all the time, and the knowledge that he was surrounded by heartless individuals told him exactly why he should be afraid. He could never read any of them. He was staring into voids in space every single day and they could easily strike him while he was vulnerable. He learned to sleep light and drink in as much caffeine as he was permitted. He stopped thinking of himself as Rowan when it seemed no one called him that name anymore. He dared to stop answering to the name entirely when Liam appointed Lance his supervisor for his next assignment. Why?

 

Because the way he drawled out each vowel sounded like a moan and it sent chills up his spine.

 

*

 

Someone shook him awake and his hand lurched up and grasped the cloak of the perpetrator roughly. "Get your paw off me," Tapi ordered.

 

He dropped his hand immediately, the teabag he had been sucking on before sleep now burst with its contents spilling over his tongue. "Sorry," he immediately uttered.

 

Tapi didn't respond. She simply stated, "Ash's pet human tried to escape again. We need someone decently strong to go keep an eye on her."

 

Tea was mildly disinterested in the idea of stocking shelves alongside the sole human in the complex. Yin herself didn't seem disinterested so much as completely terrified. She stared at him long and hard as he placed boxes and candles on the higher shelves, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a firm, thin line. With a small smirk he seemed to share only with the cultists, he asked, "Do I have something in my teeth?" Not that she could see his teeth, as he kept the lower half of his face hidden behind his collar.

 

Yin shook her head slowly before uttering, “You're just . . . really tall.”

 

His eyebrow lifted and he held his head a little higher. Mouth still hidden, he bit back a chuckle and said, “Of all the things you could have noticed, you point out my height?”

 

Yin squinted up at him. "In this group? The claws are normal." She scratched the back of her head before pointing in his general direction. "Is it rude to ask if you're hiding some disconnected jaw behind the collar? Are you secretly a creature from that game . . .?" She snapped her fingers, looking for the right word. When she found it, she jumped with excitement and asked, " _Amnesia_! Are you secretly an _Amnesia_ monster?"

 

He couldn't say he knew what she meant, so instead he just brought his chin up over the collar. "I just have fangs." He grinned to show her.

 

To her credit, her eyes only twitched a little. Blinking several times, she offered, "Not the scariest, really." He went back to stacking. He had the brief thought that she should see his second form. Then she declared, "You're almost normal, actually."

 

That . . . was a first. But he held onto the word, "Almost."

 

"Yeah, the height is really disconcerting."

 

For the first time since . . . he couldn't remember, he laughed. He opened his mouth and just laughed. Yin laughed too.

 

And it felt . . . good.

 

*

 

Seventeen years of age.

 

"Stop!"

 

Liam's command paralyzed him, and pain coursed through him each time he struggled against his Master's will. Blood spilled from his nostril, nose probably broken from Aiden's punch. The Toy had almost ruined his cover among the latest group, and he had the audacity to blame Tea for his stupidity, to lie there like he was the fear frozen victim.

 

Liam stepped over to Tea and kicked him off of Aiden, foot connecting hard with his side and forcing the now giant Toy to crumble on the ground. Aiden slid out and up to his feet, unscathed and trying to seem pissed over Tea's attempt to fight back. As the other Toy shook, Tea started to explain, "He almost—”

 

“Not another word." Tea's tongue weighed down in his mouth so much he started to choke from his attempts to open up again. Panic swept over him as he realized his mistake. His suspicions were confirmed when Liam growled, "Puppets do not harm their Masters or Toys. Understood?" Tea didn't respond, was afraid to. "Those who do will be punished."

 

But . . . but Aiden had attacked him. He'd punched Tea, Tea was just responding. He was just defending himself. He got ready to say something else only to have Liam's previous command force him to silence again.

 

"This is his first real offense," Lance uttered. "Should you go easy on him? Or make a lasting impression?"

 

Tea watched in horror as Liam stroked his chin in thought. He wanted to say something. He wanted to beg, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to right the wrong he hadn't been able to do yet. He wanted to plead with his Master not to let Lance near him, because he knew from the other’s expression that was what he was hoping for. Lance had attacked him before and Liam was his last line of defense against the other. Liam was it. Liam had hurt him, but Tea knew intrinsically what Liam had done was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what Lance was capable of.

 

He wanted to beg so badly, but Liam's will kept his tongue weighted down and he became increasingly aware of the metaphysical prison he was confined in. Never to escape. He was never, ever going to escape. Not as long as Liam held control over him.

 

Tea's head dropped to the ground and his eyes closed, body stiffening in preparation for his Master's decision. "I hate to see you punished," Liam addressed him. Tea held his breath, knowing another statement wasn't far behind. Then his fate was sealed, "Which is why I'll be leaving you here with him," he gestured to the other Master.

 

Tea's eyes shot open in terror. He shook his head, figurative needles pricking his every nerve as he forced out the words, "No, pl—"

 

"Come along Aiden. Your feelings will distract him from his punishment." Liam nodded towards Lance as he led the Toy out. As always, Aiden didn’t even look at him. He simply left, gait sped up more than typical. "You are his supervisor,” Liam reiterated to Lance, “Deal with his insolence accordingly."

 

Lance gave him the most sickening grin as the others walked out, Tea's heart stopping at the way the Master's teeth flashed at him. Scrambling back and away, he sought to put distance between himself and Lance. He had just gotten his feet up under him when out of nowhere a knife embedded itself in his thigh. Tea dropped to his knees and fell to the side with a loud cry of pain.

 

"First lesson," Lance began after a low, sinister laugh preceded his first words, "kneel before your superiors." Another knife pierced his shoulder, forcing Tea on his back as the giant vocalized louder than before. A series of whimpers over the way his muscles tensed around the blades almost blocked out Lance's next words. "Second lesson," he moved to stand over Tea, "don't try to fight, and don't try to run. We will find you. We will always find you." Then Lance's foot dropped onto Tea's ribcage and Tea threw his head back with mouth agape. Pain rushed through him at an alarming rate as he struggled to breathe and another cry bled from his lips. Lance clapped a hand over Tea's open mouth, muffling him as owl talons grew on the Master's fingertips and dug into his cheeks. "Third, and most important," he hadn't known Lance could look more sadistic, but he did, "quit whining. No one's going to save you." He snorted at himself as he leaned down closer, their faces inches apart. "Why would anyone help you?" Tea's eyes ghosted closed as he felt Lance's breath on his face and neck. "You're just a monster."

 

Tea whimpered because he knew it was true. He was just a monster. Who cared enough to save a monster? No one. Especially when the monster deserved to be punished.

 

*

 

"Remember that time you tried to run?"

 

Tea had been successful in his attempts at ignoring Gemmy thus far that night. This question, however, begged him to answer snottily, "How could I forget?"

 

"It's one of my favorites!" Of course it was. The Phobia fed off his nightmares and bad memories, adored the way mentioning them made the giant Master cringe. "The running, the crying, the begging for mercy when they dragged you back with broken legs. Ah! Good times."

 

Tea rolled his eyes. Of course he'd dredge something like this up now. "Can you, I don't know, shut the hell up? Just once?"

 

"Your dreams remind me of the good ole days. You know, when I controlled them?" The puppet's voice dropped an octave and Tea felt his anger. He managed to block it out enough so that it didn't bleed into his system. Gemmy was malicious and overwhelming, but Tea had had his practice dealing with him. He knew when not to listen. Which was why he wondered why he was listening to him now. "You should let me torment your new friends."

 

Tea glared at him. "They're not my friends, and you've got me." Weren't his nightmares enough to live on?

 

Gemmy hissed. "You've grown duller than normal. You're too content with them." There was a long pause before his voice turned devious and he crooned, "You've grown attached. Isn't that a no-no in your field?" He grumbled almost inaudibly, “Stupid tree.”

 

Tea shook his head. "I'm not attached, and you're not getting your way." Tea turned a glowing glare upon the beast, baring his fangs as he reached menacingly for his chest.

 

The Phobia huffed. "It's adorable how you think eating my flesh has made me afraid of you. Really, all it's done is add some spice to the way we live with each other." He spat the word 'live' like a curse before returning to his playful tone. "Since I'm a reliable food source, and you haven't been so reliable yourself lately, answer me this," Tea lowered his head as the beast leaned against the bars of his cell in the bunker, "do you like the antlered girl and her trigger happy brother as much as your dreams imply?"

 

Tea's back went rigid. "I dream of them?"

 

The puppet's grin could be seen even in the darkness of the bunker. "Among others. Dragon kid. Smoke lady. Tar lady. Even sweater tentacle lady and the one human. You even have an actual tree. You got a lot more people running around your head now. I'm starting to miss the other guys." Gemmy leaned back in his cell. "At least they made things interesting. Pulling your teeth, clipping your claws, catching you unawares. Those dreams were fun! These?" He let out a loud, exaggerated, "Boring!" Then he added, shackles rattling loudly as he gestured, “I’d watch out for the smoke lady. I think she has it out for you.” His eyes made a strange motion that almost looked like he was wiggling his eyebrows. If he had any. “In more ways than one.”

 

Tea stared blankly at the floor, hands still for once and not fidgeting with his clothes. "I didn't realize I dreamed of them." He'd practiced forgetting what he dreamed about too well it seemed.

 

"So you are getting attached." Tea said nothing. He just sat, unable to comprehend anything at this point. "Think they'll be understanding of your conflicted allegiances?"

 

Tea's spirits dampened further as he shook his head. "No."

 

"Pity. For you, at least. Too bad you can't be saved." Gemmy's grin only increased in magnitude.

 

Tea closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Who would want to?" It wasn't his skin he wanted saved. He hadn't realized how much trouble he was in until the demon had said something.

 

If he was close enough to the cultists he was dreaming of them, there was no doubt in his mind that when the Puppeteers came to collect he'd lose more than a body or soul.

 

*

 

Nineteen years of age.

 

“Open his mouth,” Liam ordered.

 

Tea flailed on the mattress, fighting off the people hovering over him on either side of his bed. Despite the pain of having both legs shattered, he refused to give in. He couldn’t let them . . . he couldn’t . . . .

 

He couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Tea didn’t care about revenge, he just wanted them to let him go. Gloves kept his talons from cutting as he fought off the Masters nearing him with a tube they intended to shove down his throat. He was weak from not having eaten. Every attempt to get him to eat had ended in a fight, and now that he was immobile and weaker yet they sought to do this to him. He snarled, eyes glowing and teeth flashing as Liam looked on. The Master could simply order him to do as he said, but Liam was using this to prove a point. That tended to be the way he operated.

 

“Stop it, monster!” the now Master Aiden growled as both of his hands slammed down on one of Tea’s legs.

 

Tea’s mouth shot agape and Lance took advantage. The tube was in his mouth and scraping down his throat. “No biting,” Lance leered, his grin a reminder of the last and only time Tea had ever dared to do just that. He was one tooth short because of it. He choked on the tube and all he wanted to do was throw it and the substance they were forcing into his stomach up. His gaze flitted from one face to another until their expressions blurred from his tears and he could no longer tell who was grinning, who was scowling, and who was looking on with disdain. It hurt. Everything hurt, the faces, the feeding, the broken bones, everything.

 

It would take him a few more attempts at his own life to realize they simply would not let him die. He was pale, gaunt, and half of what he once was by the time he accepted that. It didn’t occur to him to fight back. He’d seen what a catastrophic failure it had been to do so in the past. It didn’t occur to him to go to the beasts. They provided little more than sad looks from the distance. He was as apart as one could get. Neither puppet nor Master, and yet both. Or rather, he was soon to be both.

 

*

 

Sixty-eight years of age.

 

“Are you afraid?”

 

Tea looked to Chronic, brow furrowed. “Of what?”

 

She shrugged. “Anything. What scares you so much?”

 

She acted like she’d witnessed his fear firsthand. Knowing her, she probably did. Being one of two who knew of the brand on his neck and had been sworn to secrecy, he trusted her more than he should. The woman, who struck him as death incarnate most days, was sure to survive the Puppeteers. When they came.

 

So he answered honestly, “Everything.” He was bound to a Phobia. Everything was a potential threat to him. Everything was a nightmare waiting to happen. Everything except death.

 

“Tell me,” she took a long pull on her straw, drinking in the flower tea he’d brewed for her, “how much time do you spend fearing everything when you’re with them?”

 

His eyes narrowed. He’d told her nothing of what it was like for him as a Puppeteer. Why would she ask him this? Still, he answered, “So much time the feeling is passive.” Fear was as much a part of him as the coat he was wearing. The coat that was, for all intents and purposes, his straitjacket.

 

She nodded, mask revealing nothing but emotions evident. “And with us?”

 

He stopped, gaze softening as he realized he’d never even considered that. He’d never thought of how many times a day he asked himself what was going to be waiting for him around the corner when he was with the cult. With the Puppeteers, it was a constant struggle not to flinch. Here, though there were more dangers . . . it seemed . . . he paused. He stared at his cup of tea. “I,” his mouth opened and closed, but he couldn’t finish. He was stuck. He’d never looked at it that way.

 

Chronic nodded, finishing her cup. “Perhaps that’s something to think about in depth,” she suggested.

 

He said nothing the rest of the conversation.

 

*

 

Twenty-two years of age.

 

"We found the one responsible for your family's deaths."

 

"You should do the honors of removing their heart."

 

"This will win you your beast."

 

He stared between the two Masters, watching the scraggly person on the ground as Liam's and Lance's words sank in. They were covered in rags, hair all a mass and just filthy like they'd been living in squalor. This person didn't look like someone capable of destroying his world, but the rage he felt deep within them . . . that was enough. That was enough to convince him that they were telling the truth.

 

Tea looked from Lance to Liam, brow creasing as he stepped forward. The person kicked back and away from him, and something predatory inside Tea ignited. They grunted like an animal, crawling backwards as Tea picked up the pace. He couldn't see their face. It was best he didn't see their face. He didn't have a desire to watch the lights go out in their eyes. He just wanted to do what he'd come here for, what he'd joined the Puppeteers to accomplish. Now, it felt less like revenge for his parents and more like revenge for himself. Because of them, he was here. He was a puppet, and he'd endured hell waiting to avenge the only people who had ever truly loved him.

 

Fist closed around the person's throat he felt a tremor of fear and a seething anger from within them before something like resignation hit him. Good. A resigned creature wouldn't fight. He didn't want a struggle. He just wanted to dig his claws into their chest and pull free the last thing standing between him and some sense of closure.

 

Talons tore through the thinning garments, Tea shredding the skin just below the ribcage easily. He plunged his hand deep inside the person, reaching up and searching for the heart. They writhed at first, gasps and silent cries leaving a mouth he could just see through the mass of hair. He ignored the way the organs squished against his fingers, hand enclosing around a still beating heart as the person weakly placed their hands on his shoulders.

 

Wait . . . .

 

Those hands . . . .

 

Those . . . talons . . . .

 

Tea's eyes went wide as he stared at the mouth again, his own heart stopping as theirs slowed. No. No, it couldn't . . . they couldn't . . . .

 

He saw her fangs flash as she breathed out one final sentence. He didn't hear it, but he knew what it was. He knew what she'd said.

 

And just like that, her heart stopped in his hand and she slumped to the floor. His palm left her body, heart ripping from its place in her chest as he stared at her still form. Everything inside him just stopped.

 

Tea was frozen, staring at the woman's, the skinwalker's, the empath's lifeless form with her heart in his hand. He didn't remember he wasn't alone until one of the Master's pulled the organ from his fingers. Tea felt water tracking down his cheeks, but made no sound. The rest of him was so utterly numb that he just . . . he couldn't even feel himself biting his tongue in his mouth. He didn't even answer as Lance asked, "What did she say?" For once, just once, the two Masters didn’t press him for an answer.

 

Tea stared ahead, horror devouring him at the life he'd taken. The life he'd lost. It devoured him until his nerves buzzed from deadness. His fault. So many had lost their lives and loves and it was his fault. He didn't fully grasp that until now, when one of those he thought he'd lost turned out to be the price he had to pay. It was . . . a fitting price.

 

He never told them what he'd heard her whisper. He never spoke again of this happening, broken for all of time over what he'd done. What he'd become. He was the only one to hear the dying words, "Wild things should stay wild." He would keep it that way.

 

*

 

He’d spent two years dedicated to watching the Candle Cult. The Puppeteers were ready to make a move. He . . . he wasn’t.

 

Lee dropped a mouse on Tea's chest, having carried it in her mouth by the tail. He looked down at the quivering creature and couldn't stop the smile creeping onto his face. It was soon complemented by a sad undertone he could never shake whenever Lee gifted him with these small things, these tiny distractions from their impending doom.

 

"Isn't he cute?" she asked happily as Tea lay on the couch recovering from his latest fight with his demon. He nodded sullenly. "Then why do you look so sad?"

 

He tried strengthening his smile for her sake, but his quiet response must have denoted something. "I'm alright, kiddo." Watching the mouse sway back and forth fearfully, he reached up and ran a thumb over its head and down its back. It floored him how it welcomed his touch after a few pets. Then the mouse gently sank its teeth into one of his talons and pulled, Tea's smile over the gesture genuine this time. Concerns briefly abated by the mouse and the child who had brought it to him, Tea murmured, "You should let him go."

 

Lee paused in her cleaning to look up at Tea. "Why? He's cute. He's mine."

 

Tea shook his head. Should have seen that coming. "Eh. Nevermind."

 

"No, I want to know." She leaned over him, eyes pleading from under the hood. "Please tell me?"

 

He felt a lightness in his chest over the appeal, smiling more in spite of himself. "Well, don't you think he should stay free?" He struggled not to furrow his brow at what he'd shared with her. "Stay wild?"

 

Lee pondered for a moment, then grinned at him. "I guess that makes sense." Then she was running off with the mouse again, leaving Tea to rest on the couch.

 

He had never been so unsure in his life. At the same time, he'd also never been surer of what he wanted.


End file.
